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Til Death, Do You Part
Santa Muerte. An early New World Summer Island. Probably one of the most dangerous islands due to the endless drugs and violence running rampant. Even the World Government gave up on policing this hellhole. A small island which was responsible for so much violence. Chateau heard that this island served as a prison for the undesirables. The Celestial Dragons poisoned the indigenous population and ordered the criminals of the early New World to serve their time here. Chateau ordered the others to watch this ship. Stating that this little detour was only a pit stop for him to buy some of the famous Lady Death Beef Wraps. The Phantom Thief didn't want to mix the others up in this dangerous scheme. He'd grown to love them way too much. And so, Chateau soared over the small desert to a town not too far off of the docks. His black and white First Class shoes allowing him cut through the air. Turning a journey worth several nights into a few hours. How he started to enjoy the ability to fly through the air. He danced upon the wind, of course the shoes complimenting his outfit as a whole. Eventually Chateau reached his destination. And with a gentle nudge of his toes, the dial began to die down until it shut off completely. Bringing Chateau to a gentle landing upon the soft sand of the distant town. Covering his own body in a breathable cloak in hopes of hiding his visage. After his countless exploits, the ebony captain became an exploding star within the Grand Line. People wanted to hunt him in chase of infamy. Others looking to join him in his cause. The covered man made his way to a bar. From his time in Cairo, the town bar served as the information hub on islands like these. Squeak. Squeak. Each step caused the wooden boards behind him to creak. Alerting those around him that he was indeed a newcomer. Chateau ignored the stares and sat at the bar. His hood casting a shadow over his chocolate skin. "Ey, we don allow mask 'ere." A man said from behind the bar as he approached Chateau. The man, from what Chateau could see, wasn't that big. He had a golden tooth and several moles littering his tan complexion. As much as Chateau wanted to keep the hood on, the laws of Xenia forbade disrespecting respectful guest. And so Chateau gently pulled his head off. Silence. Followed by an enormous rush of whispers. But the infamous captain paid no heed. Rather he focused on the man before him. "Where can I find Crudo Estar?" The mere mentioning of the name quelled the whispers instantly. Two men from opposites of the bar got up in perfect unison, without a splitting second of difference. They were so alike they couldn't be anything but twins: both were tall, wiry, and donned white outfits somehow left completely immaculate, despite the surrounding wretchedness. Their faces appeared to be glabrate, featureless except for odd third eye tattooed at the center of their forehead. Strolling mechanically from their position, the two stood face-to-face with Chateau in between. Nobody could guess their true colors from a look alone, as their expression was utterly stoic and their eyes were utterly milky, lacking any iris. Nonetheless, the worried murmur coming from many customers did not bode anything good. "YOUUUU!!!" The twins bellowed in synch, pointing at each other with her index, completely ignoring Chateau's presence. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING HERE, YOU WORTHLESS SPINELESS, LAME, BLAND, BALDY SACK OF SHIT? YOU ARE HERE TO STEAL MISS ROSALITA'S MAIDEN HEART FROM MY NOSE, AREN'T YOU?!?" Miss Rosalita, the bodacious barmaid of the tavern, wrapped her face with a palm of her head while giving off a huge groan. "I should have hit the jackpot," she lamented, thinking how being courted by two notorious henchmen of the most powerful man in Santa Muerte had sounded like a blessing. That before she had realized the Margolis twins were so identical, it quickly felt creepy- same mannerism, same tastes, same inclination to make crappy serenades under her roof at 4 a.m. Yet, despite such excessive similarities (or maybe because of those), they hated each other guts and threw cockfights every goddam time they met, which happened all the damned time, given how they always had the idea to go to the bar at the same damn moment. "Tullio, Miguel dearest," Miss Rosalita addressed her suitors, forcing herself to smile. "For Peter's and lord Estar's sake, would you please not throw a f..." "YOU HAVE INTERFERED WITH MY LIFE FOR THE LAST TIME, YOU FUCKING COPYCAT!!!" The twins jumped above Chateau, confronting each other midair. Tullio (or maybe Miguel) threw a punch on Miguel's (or possibly Tullio) face, and the twin followed suit. Both made the same grunt. Then Miguel (or perhaps Tullio) followed with a high kick, which Tullio (or maybe Miguel) intercepted by performing the same move. Kicks, headbutts, punches, hand knives, elbow strikes, knee blows began to fly all over, the resulting shockwaves living sizable dents in the bar's loft. Clients ducked under their table, knowing the fight would end only with the mutual exhaustion of both combatants, as the two were so evenly matched it appeared each twin was viciously throwing in against its own mirror image. Chateau felt the threatening presence and prepared for battle...a battle waged by one man against what he thought was his clone?? At this point in his journey, after all the chaos he'd been through, the god of the seas could walk into this bar and order a strawberry martini before shooting him in the kneecap for being a devil fruit user. However, closer inspection caused him to come to the realization that they were as different as night and day. How could she choose!? Tuillo obviously the passionate one! or Miguel, the bad boy who'd beat up anyone for her. Regardless, Chateau didn't stop them from fighting...He couldn't. He knew what it felt like to watch love slip from between his fingers. After all, his dear Ann Marie chose that bastard over him all those years ago! "Guy stop!" Chateau barked. "Can't you see your fighting is tearing this maiden apart!" He screamed. He threw his arms back furiously at the beautiful barmaid. "It pains my heart to watch her break down at this tough decision!" He fell to the bar, his hand upon his forehead with a deep breath as the weight of this decision began to press on his shoulder. "The only way for her to choose is to flip a coin!" Chateau pulled out a golden coin. "The powers of fate cannot be ignored. And so, I will allow you each to choose whether you are heads or tails." Sharing a moment of respite between a punch and the next, the twins turned their head to the newcomers, their pearly eyes beaming at the golden coin clutched between his fingers. Would the Gods and the Saints above, spinning the fates of mortals with a turn of the heavenly wheel, finally put an end to their lifelong quarrel? Was Lady Luck blessing one and one only of the twins to find, to obtain, to finally be something different than the parasitic doppelganger Tullio and Miguel had to put with since their very conception? A choice each twin had to make: a momentous decision whose outcome would resound for the rest of their life. The icy gaze of Miguel (or Tullio) stared at the frosty glare of Tullio (or Miguel), a thread of steel and lightning binding their pupilless scleras. Each of them was spending seconds lasting for eons in picking a face their brother would foolish ignore. Heads or tail to triumph, to fail, to beget wonder or dispense doom. Then they uttered the solemn word. Together. "HEEEADDDS!!" Fuck that bitch of their mother- be always blessed her dried up bones: they chose the same face again! "TAILL!!" They cried out. "HEADS!!" They yelled. "HEADS!!" They began screaming and weeping in despair. "STOP READING MY MIINDDD!!! FUCK YOUUUUU!!!!" Bald heads banged against each other like cannonballs on a fortress' wall. Meanwhile, Rosalita sighed with relief: those two parallel versions of the same being couldn't differ in a choice even if they had a hundred guns pointed at their temples and quite a few at their manhood. That gave her all the time she needed to tiptoe from the bar counter to the exit and flee behind everybody's back, thinking of another way to pay her astrophysics studies. Whoring, perhaps? Nah, it would make the problem even worse in the long run. Category:Tabor gorilla